Child of the Night
by VeloxVoid
Summary: Felix awakens after a bloody battle, finding himself inside a castle he doesn't recognise. He meets its owner - the man who saved his life. However, Seteth did not revive Felix by normal means. The heir of Fraldarius must come to terms with the fact that the vampires of Fódlan - culled long ago for their evil - were never truly eradicated. And now, Felix must live as one of them.
1. Chapter 1

Felix's eyes opened slowly, only a vague haze swimming into his vision as he tried to focus.

_Where… am I?_

He blinked a couple of times, trying to beat back an itching dryness to his eyes that brought a scowl to his lips and a growl to his throat.

But, his throat was dry too. Felix coughed, hearing it rattle around in his throat like echoes in an empty chamber. Small stabbing pains shot around his ribs as he did so, feeling familiar: feeling like a battle wound.

Combat flashed beneath his eyelids; the cry of clashing steel ringing in his ears; the splash of blood splattering across his face, so hot it had felt caustic.

He'd been in a battle. All of the Blue Lions had - guided by their professor. But, they'd been losing. Felix had remembered sensing alarm as he'd watched enemy troops pour continuously into his line of sight, their figures so numerous, like ants feasting upon the rotting fruit that was the blood-drenched battlefield. Felix had remembered cutting a path through the bodies coming at him, but seeing no end - hearing Sylvain's panicked shouts and wheeling around before pain had burst throughout him-

_Sylvain_.

Where was Sylvain?

Felix tried to sit up, but cried out as his muscles protested, shooting sharp pains throughout his ribs and back and making him slump back down into the covers again.  
He'd been injured. He'd blacked out. His world had faded around him as he'd felt intense pain, hearing the clattering of weapons and shrieks of Sylvain Gautier before entering nothingness.

And he'd woken up here. But, where was here?

Looking around himself, Felix found that he was lying in an unfamiliar bed. The blankets were old: moth-bitten and heavy, made from somewhat scratchy red threads that had been bleached by sunlight and age. The walls around him were rough grey stone, the floor beneath him the same. A grand wardrobe, chest of drawers, and dresser were all carved from dark oak, with intricate designs etched into their faces as they sat against the walls. A painting hung over the dresser depicting what appeared to be a lake; crystal clear waters glinted beneath the sun, while vivid grass grew in fields beyond it, all portrayed in tiny, intricate brushstrokes.

He did not recognise this room. Upon the wall opposite him was an open door, and to his left was a window, shutters closed. Through the crack in the centre, bright white light filtered through and threatened to blind him, and Felix felt himself squint and turn away.

He never had been a daylight person, anyway.

Sitting up stiffly, fighting off more coughs, Felix managed to work himself into a semi-upright position. While his shoulders were still hunched, and his neck was still bent from the pain in his ribs, he managed to look down at his chest, eyes focussing on the fact that it was bare. Bandages had been wrapped around his torso, covering the area in the left side of his ribs that pained him the most. His arms were still covered in the faded nicks he'd earned in training, and in the larger scars that he'd obtained through battle. No wound had ever been so bad as this new one, though; not only the skin had been breached, he could tell, but there had been internal damage, too. Never before had Felix felt his insides protest like this - as though the organs buried within his ribs had been sewn back together. He was not surprised to see that deep crimson had stained the bandages in a long, horizontal line: as though the space between two of his ribs had been sliced open.

The temptation to tear the wrapping away to view the extent of the damage beneath was almost overwhelming, but Felix knew better.

"You mustn't disturb a healing wound!" Mercedes had scolded him once, when he'd unwrapped a bandage on his arm for fear it made him look weak. The stitches had burst as a result, and he'd risked an infection, and ever since, Felix had kept his bandages wrapped tight; he never wanted to experience those damned fever-dreams again.

All at once, he became aware of another pain, though. A surface wound throbbed upon the left side of his neck, evidently roused by the movement of craning it downwards. As he brought up a hand towards it, he was met with scabs that had crusted across his flesh. Running gentle fingertips across the tender wound, Felix felt his dry eyes widen and his blood turn to ice as he recognised the marks. Tiny indentations, feeling almost circular, had punctured the softness of his neck - just one clean bite-mark with four perforations, where canine teeth should have been…

_A vampire…?_

_No_. Felix shook his head immediately at the thought. That was preposterous. Those creatures were of folktales - the kind of mythological nonsense that would keep Ashe awake at night. While once, they had existed - had roamed Fódlan in the wee hours to drink the blood of the unwitting - now, they were nothing more than a legend. They'd been purged long ago, their kind culled, and now they ceased to plague the world.

What could he have been thinking? The ridiculousness almost made him smile. _A vampire… Ha_. Most likely he'd been bitten by a beast, or by some human soldier driven wild by bloodlust, or even by some frightened animal displaced by the battle.

But, that didn't explain why he was here. In this strange room that felt almost like part of a tower - unlike anything he'd been exposed to at Garreg Mach. It didn't explain why he wore thin trousers that he didn't recognise, why his hair was loose and falling across his shoulders, and why none of the other Lions were around-

"Oh, good. You're awake."

Felix knew that voice - the voice that had drifted over from a figure standing in the doorway. While at first it startled him, his shock soon became replaced with a feeling of rage. A surge of pure anger - of violation and mistrust and… fear.

He leapt to his feet, feeling the stone-cold floor beneath his skin, but the movement gave him a headrush. His vision fizzled to blackness as he felt himself stumbling, legs too weak to catch himself, brain hurtling around his skull-

Until he landed in soft arms.

"Foolishness. You should know you're too wounded to move just now."

_Seteth_. The strict, uptight, self-righteous instructor at Garreg Mach who'd never failed to give Felix a hard time. Berating him for his training methods, for the way he spent his time, for the way he treated his friends… Felix had found, over the months he'd known the man, that he thoroughly disliked him.

So, why? Why was Seteth here? Was this his house? The man had never really seemed fond of Felix, so why would he care enough to help him recover? Questions rocketed through Felix's mind as he was laid back down upon the bed, softness enveloping him and easing his pounding head - soothing his screaming wounds.

Felix's eyes opened once more and saw Seteth standing over him - saw the concern upon the man's face. That face… So strangely youthful despite the mature way in which he acted - so unlined and pristine it had always given Felix a feeling of unease, as though it were unnatural in some way. His eyes were a startling green, almost glowing in the dim light of the room as they focussed upon Felix's rib wound. His slightly wavy hair looked more tousled than usual, and the slim headpiece he usually sported was nowhere in sight - his usual academy attire replaced by what appeared to be a black night-robe.

"You're lucky to be alive." His voice was as stern as ever, emerald eyes hard as he tucked Felix back into bed. "You need more rest-"

"Hold on," Felix interrupted. He gave a cough through the dryness in his throat, and tried once more to sit up. "Tell me what I'm doing here. Where's Sylvain? Where's the professor? What am I-"

"Calm _down_," Seteth snapped. "I'll answer your questions with time. For now, rest."

"You really think I can _rest_ through all of this? What do you take me for, a simpleton?" Felix spat, sitting up through his agony and gripping the man's night-robe in one pale fist. Seteth looked taken aback, simply watching as Felix grabbed onto his clothes to haul himself upright. "Why am I here? And why have I got _bite marks_ on my neck?"

Seteth's chilly hands enveloped Felix's own like sheets of ice, making him inhale a shocked breath. He pulled them from his robe and threw the boy back down into his pillows, hearing him give a pained hiss.

"You are here because I saved your life." His each word was hard - meaningful - and frowning eyes bored deep into Felix's own. "Be grateful, or get up and leave."

_He's avoiding the other question._

As the anger inside of him began to twist, writhing and mutating until it became something closer to panic, Felix began to think.

Why had Seteth never truly smiled? Why did his mouth barely open when he spoke? Why did he never eat in public, and why did he always fight to keep his teeth behind his lips? Felix had noticed these things - they'd always irritated him, given him yet more cause to avoid the man like the plague - but now, coupled with his newfound neck wound, they seemed nothing short of dubious.

_Think, Felix._

But his mind was only drawing one conclusion. The light outside seemed to be harsh - the day outside evidently at its prime; midday or early afternoon light slipped through the gaps in the closed shutters. If it truly was that time, why was Seteth wearing night robes? Why had he always been reluctant to leave the dark confines of the monastery, and why had his lectures always been in the evening?

That one foolish word kept encircling his mind as he looked back into the eyes of the man before him. He was pale, youthful-looking, and - Felix now knew - cold to the touch. It all lined up with the horror stories Mercedes had told the Lions around a campfire one night. They were all symptoms shown by the vampiric fiends that had been wiped out centuries ago.

Without thinking, Felix shot out of bed once more, stumbling across the gritty stone bricks while clutching his seeping wound, and reached the window. He had to know. Fighting off the swimming blackness that threatened to override his vision, he grabbed hold of the dark wooden shutters.

"Felix!" Seteth hissed, his footsteps audible behind him, but he was too late.

Felix wrenched the shutters open with all his might, hearing them clatter against the wall before Seteth's screams filled his ears. But, the blinding light hit Felix's eyes too, a white-hot sensation fizzling against his retinas as he joined Seteth, crying out in pain. He fell to the floor, unable to contain the agonised howls that left his throat as his skin began to burn.

It was as though he'd been thrust into open flames, the light scorching every inch of Felix's exposed skin. Tears leaking from his eyes, he scrabbled away from the window on his hands and knees, barely hearing another set of footsteps rush past him through the ringing that had sounded in his eardrums.

Darkness returned. Cold embraced Felix's skin once more and he felt himself relax, panting.

"Oh, you two…"

The feminine voice that met his ears was familiar too. Felix pried open his eyelids to see Flayn standing next to the now-shuttered window, offering Felix a hand to help him stand once more. As feeling returned to his wounds, Felix pressed one hand to his ribs and used the other to accept Flayn's help, stumbling into a standing position. Her skin was like ice, too.

He staggered back to his bed, ignoring Seteth still doubled over, groaning, on the floor. Felix sat down heavily upon the bedsheets, feeling a cold sheen of sweat against his skin. Given the man's reaction to sunlight, Felix felt his suspicions were not overly far-fetched.

What frightened him was that he'd had the same reaction.

Breathing hard, Felix felt the coldness of the room seep beneath his skin, creeping down his spine and driving him to shiver. His own hands looked unnaturally pale. That could have been the blood-loss from his wound, or it could have been…

"You're some sort of beast?" he asked, sounding as disbelieving as he felt.

Seteth glowered at him through drawn eyebrows. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

He inhaled a shaky breath. "And, you made _me_ a beast, too?"

Flayn had passed to Seteth's side and helped him to stand. He took her hand and rose, grunting. "I'd prefer you not call us _beasts_," he said. "We prefer the term vampires. But, I'm sure you know that." He cast a disgruntled look at the window.

Felix's heart began to pound a little harder, setting his wounds to throbbing. It couldn't have been true. Surely it was some sort of elaborate joke - surely Sylvain was around the other wall snickering as he pulled such a tortuous prank. But, Felix had felt it for himself. He'd felt the sunlight scorch his skin, and remembered Mercedes' tales:

"They could only attack at night, for their skin would burn beneath sunlight."

His heart grew cold as he came to terms with the reality.

"Vampires are extinct." Those were the only words Felix could muster as he looked down at his pale, bloodless hands. His fingers were like the icicles that clung to the tree branches back in Faerghus, the only colour in them being a red smear from where he'd held his bleeding bandages.

"Not all of them." Seteth brushed dust from his night-robes, Flayn looking anxious beside him.

"The legends said they'd been culled - the species eradicated."

"Mm. All but four of them." When Felix looked up into Seteth's eyes, he saw something like disdain behind them. His voice had sounded so hard - almost challenging. The man's eyes narrowed. "Well, I suppose we have five now."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: TW: Mild descriptions of blood and gore.**

* * *

"You made me your _beast!?"_ Fear had rattled Felix until he'd burst - all the fright and panic and disbelief welling up inside of him until it spilled over. "You made me a monster!? One of the evil creatures that Fódlan tried to eradicate!?"

Seteth's eyes were dark, shadowed by the room's gloom and full of disdain. "Calm down. You're worsening your wound."

"Talk to me! Why? Why would you do this?"

"You were going to die-"

"So, you should have _let me_ die!" Felix roared at him, feeling each of his muscles shake. "That was how I should have died - that was my time!"

A sort of irritated _tch_ left the man's lips, and he turned away. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Evidently I don't."

"Felix…" Flayn's gentle voice spoke up now, removing Felix momentarily from his rage. She stepped towards him with a gentleness behind her eyes. "Let me change your bandages."

But he was more focussed on the man. "You owe me an explanation."

"And I will give it to you," Seteth agreed. "After you have time to calm down." He shut his eyes, turned, and began to walk from the room.

Felix's breath was heavy, his chest heaving painfully as the man turned his back on him. He was angry, frightened, confused. How could this have been happening? He didn't even realise vampires had still existed until mere minutes ago, and now he was supposed to believe that he was one too?

He already _did_ believe, however. The sun had scorched his eyes in the past, but never his skin. That reaction was something unnatural - something abnormal. Flayn had remained in the shadows to close the shutters, but Felix and Seteth had been reduced to agonised screams as the rays had bathed their skin. That pain was something that could not have been imagined.

With a sudden realisation, he opened his mouth a little. Slipping one thumb between his lips, he pressed it against his teeth, feeling the dull, square shapes of his incisors and… Sure enough, his canines were sharp. They'd always been a little pointed, but now their edge was painfully angular, feeling as piercing as a kitten's claws against the pad of his thumb.

It made his stomach turn - made the cold begin to embrace him once more.

"So, let's help you calm down, then," Flayn said as she approached him. She gestured to his bandages. "May I?"

He didn't respond, instead staring dead ahead. When he spoke, his voice was quiet - his brain too preoccupied to muster anything more. "So, you really are vampires?"

Flayn's face looked strained in response. "Yes."

"And Seteth… turned me?"

"He was just trying to do what was best," she said, beginning to unwrap his bandage with gentle fingers.

"How?" asked Felix. "According to the stories, you live forever. You're immortal, and forced to live lives of solitude in the dark- _agh!_" The material had stuck to his wound's dried blood, pulling painfully on the skin as she pried it away.

"I'm sorry… But, really, it is not as bad as they make it out to be. You get used to it, after so long. It is not the most easy, being a child of the night amidst your day-loving friends, but…"

"But what?" Felix was struggling to find the upside. "He's merely cursed me. Now, I won't age. I'll watch everybody I still love die, and I'll be stuck here. Forever."

"Oh, Felix. You're so dramatic."

He flared at that. "I am not! I didn't ask for this! You say he was trying to do what was best, but _how?_ How could this possibly be good for me!?"

Flayn pressed a hand against his shoulder, prompting him to lie down. Reluctantly, he did, watching as the girl leaned over him, inspecting his injury. She didn't look quite as fresh as usual, either - much like Seteth. Usually her hair was styled in long, bouncing curls the same colour as her brother's, but now her hair hung around her shoulders in loose waves, looking slightly dishevelled. She appeared to be wearing a light blue nightgown.

"Were you both asleep?" he asked.

A small smile cradled Flayn's lips. "I was. We usually sleep through the brightest hours, but my… brother couldn't sleep. He knew you'd awaken, and he knew you'd be angry." She held out her palms towards his ribs, and white light glowed from around her fingertips. Felix felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation fill him, shooting throughout each vein and focussing around where he'd been wounded. "It was an axe, by the way."

"An axe?"

She nodded. "That… hurt you."

Felix felt another memory come back to him. An enemy soldier charging at him while he locked swords with another, a blood-curdling cry leaving her mouth as she lifted a heavy-looking axe over her head. Kicking the swordsman away from him, Felix had turned to face her, until a shriek had filled his ears.

"F-Felix!"

The panicked yelp of Sylvain had made his heart leap, and he'd whirled around frantically to look for him. "Sylvain!" he'd screamed back, but a blow to the chest had sent air shooting from his lungs, and pain had exploded through his body. He'd felt himself hit the floor, and his world had turned black.

"Did it kill me?" he asked Flayn, gritting his teeth as the magic coursing through his body began to tighten upon his every nerve.

"Not quite," she replied softly, twisting her glowing fingers in slow, deliberate motions. "It would have… if Seteth hadn't saved you."

"Pfft. _Saved_." Everything was so bittersweet. Of course, he was happy to still be alive, but could this even be called a life? Wasn't he technically undead? The equivalent of a ghost, or zombie, only with a more disgusting habit of borderline cannibalism?

Flayn spoke quietly. "I do hope you'll come round eventually. There are so many misconceptions." The light faded from around her fingers, and when the buzzing inside Felix's body died off, he felt somewhat better. "There are even some benefits."

His eyes narrowed. "Benefits?"

"Why, of course." The girl crossed the room to the dresser, upon which sat a basin of water and a cloth. She submerged it, wrung it out, and came back to her patient with a roll of bandages in another hand. "The folktales only tell of the bad things. The nasty ones who lost themselves in their bloodthirst, and those so overcome with power they deemed themselves better than humans. We weren't all like that."

"What kind of power?" Felix demanded.

"Hmm, lots of them, really. You'll find out with time." Flayn began to gently dab at Felix's ribs, the cold water searing at the raw, injured skin. He hissed in pain, and looked down to see his affliction for the first time.

The girl's white magic had evidently worked its charms. By the looks of the deep purple bruise mottling the ivory skin around the scar, Felix had been hit hard. The bones beneath would easily have been broken under the axe's might, and it had made a wide, deep cut. While partially sealed, the gash still looked gruesome. Blood seeped slightly from between where the skin was trying to heal, but instead of being almost repulsed, as he usually was by gore, Felix felt almost…

Hungry.

A harsh curse word left Felix's mouth. He'd forgotten about that.

The legends told that the demonic creatures could only feast upon humans. It was why they'd been destroyed; the vampires would sneak into the houses of the unsuspecting at night and brutally murder them, feasting on their blood. It was their life source - the one thing they could consume so as not to wither away. As long as they could drink the scarlet that flowed through the veins of mortals, they could not die; that was what Mercedes' stories had told, at least.

He tried to push the image from his mind, looking away from the wound to refocus. But, Felix's stomach was growling. He salivated, imagining the taste: the thick ooze of metallic warmth filling his mouth…

_Stop!_

He grimaced, physically shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts. "Don't tell me that's the only thing you can eat."

Flayn gave him an anxious smile as she sat him up again, preparing to rewrap him. "We… can talk about that when you're ready."

"I'm ready now - I'm hungry now!" Felix felt his cheeks heat. He'd never been so worked up over food before. Meals were merely a nuisance: nothing more than a distraction from the important things. Eating was a necessity, if not only to sate himself to train better, but an annoyance nonetheless. Never before had hunger pangs brought Felix irritation; now, however, his stomach felt so hollow it pushed him to snarling.

Tying off his dressing after wrapping it tightly around him, Flayn stepped back and gave Felix a quick smile. She looked over her shoulders in a way that made him raise an eyebrow, but eventually, she spoke. "I promise we'll tell you everything."

"Why not now?" Anger made him speak through grit teeth. He'd been dragged into this mess involuntarily - his life turned upside down. Not only was he having to come to terms with being a creature so despised they'd been culled, but he was gravely wounded, in a strange building with two people he positively disliked, and nobody would tell him what had happened. Where was Sylvain? The professor? What had happened of the battle they'd been losing? If Seteth had revived Felix, he could have revived everybody else. That was, given he'd gotten to them in time-

_No._ They couldn't have been dead. That wasn't possible.

"For now…" Flayn lowered him down once more into the bedsheets. "… just sleep, Felix."

"I don't want to sleep," he protested. "I want answers!"

"Trust me." And her hand began to glow as she held it over his eyes, a pulsating white that transformed to indigo, that faded into blue. Her voice was so soft - so genuine - echoing slightly. "You'll feel better afterwards."

A drowse overcame the heir of Fraldarius - the newest child of the night - and he was plunged into a world of darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Images came swimming to him through the blackness. Garreg Mach in the distance, and the wide open field before him. It was dusk; the sun had just dipped below the horizon and streaked the inky sky with orange and pink and peach. Felix's skin didn't burn. Instead, the air felt cool and breezy upon it as he wore his training clothes, the Wo Dao sitting comfortably upon his belt.

Figures ran towards him, but he didn't feel startled. His blood didn't surge with the heat of battle; he stood calmly, a smile upon his lips, as he saw familiar faces. Sylvain, the professor, Ingrid, and even the Boar. They rushed towards him with open arms, letting their cries of relief catch upon the wind behind them. Soon, Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe joined, all surrounding Felix and babbling happily at him.

Sylvain embraced him. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders as they had so many times before, and Felix felt himself begin to blush - a trait he'd adopted involuntarily as of late around Sylvain.

"We were so worried about you!" he exclaimed into Felix's neck, only then pulling away to admire his face. His hair looked so fiery - the curls like flames licking upwards into the air in the chaotic, endearing way they always had.

"I have something to tell you," Felix said, confidence in his chest. "I'm a-"

"We know." Mercedes looked at him with a soft smile. "We all know."

"Seteth told us." Sylvain nodded at him.

Felix hadn't expected that. "About my… About me being…?"

"You're a vampire now, Felix," Ashe piped up. "That's so cool!"

Murmurs of agreement sounded from the rest of the group. Sylvain's hands trailed down Felix's arms, until eventually they rested upon his hands and linked their fingers together.

"We love you regardless, Fe." Sylvain smiled, and Felix felt his heart skip a beat. He hated how the man could cause that reaction within him - hated that he did not know why - but his chest was warm, and he felt happy. He had good company who would accept him no matter what. "Plus, I bet you can finally beat the professor in training, now!"

* * *

When Felix's eyes opened, the elation left him at once. So much happiness, and excitement, and a hundred emotions Felix hadn't felt since childhood burst as suddenly as a blade through the heart.

Looking around himself, he was still in the same room. He had the same uncertainty in his chest - the same feeling of creeping fear as he looked to the window, seeing no dregs of light squeezing through the shutter's cracks, the room darker than he'd last seen it.

Somehow, though, he could see clearer. He could see each outline of furniture more crisply - could pinpoint the tiny cracks in the stone flooring. He could see through the open door and out into the hallway beyond. Despite the shapes all being shades of grey, they were undoubtedly more visible.

That was when he remembered Flayn's words. _"There are even some benefits."_

It made sense, Felix supposed. Perhaps his eyes had simply adjusted better to the light, or perhaps vampires needed better dark-vision since they were nocturnal. He settled upon the latter. If he were to go about his business at night now, he'd need to see in the dark.

… What business would there be, though? What was in store for him in this new life he'd been thrust into? There was no way to find out except to ask.

He felt a wave of irritation flush his face. The last thing he'd remembered before his dream had been Flayn putting him to sleep. The beautiful lights cascading down upon his eyes and lulling him into a dream… If only he could have that every night. He didn't appreciate being knocked out against his will, but the slumber had been so peaceful and easy that he thought he could get used to it.

Upon the dresser where Flayn had left a clean cloth, bandages, and the basin of water, Felix also found a pile of clothes. While the shirt was made from a thin, light cotton with puffy long sleeves and a v-neck, the trousers were tight and black. When he slipped into them, and tucked his shirt into them, he found that their waistband reached his navel. A pair of soft slippers awaited him on the floor.

Fully changed, Felix peered into a looking glass that had been placed delicately upon the dresser. He was still pale - even more so than usual - and his glossy hair hung loose over his shoulders. He'd never suited short hair, preferring to keep it lengthy, but he never liked how it looked when it was loose, either. It irritated him when he trained unless it was tied back upon his head: that was how he felt best.

Recently, however, he'd come to enjoy wearing his hair down; ever since the night Sylvain had dropped in unannounced after training, and had made a fuss about how "luscious" it looked, and how he should "wear it like that more often". While Felix's face had burned red in the moment, and he'd shouted for Sylvain to leave, he now remembered it fondly. And he left his hair untied.

He just hoped Sylvain was okay, wherever he was now.

As he began to walk softly through the doorway and out into the hall, Felix took a moment to note the hospitality of his hosts. The concept of being their prisoner or their pet had crossed his mind a couple of times, but being given clothes and apparent free roam of this place seemed positively welcoming.

Regardless of what he was to them, Felix wanted answers. If they weren't the answers he liked, he was well-trained - he could easily attempt to flee. Flayn was merely a girl, but her magical prowess was imposing; Felix knew he was quick enough to dodge her attacks, but if he slipped up, one ounce of her black magic could do serious harm. Seteth was a whole other story.

He didn't want it to have to come to that, though. He wanted desperately to trust them - to believe that Seteth actually did have good intentions behind his actions, but… he would have to wait and see.

The thin corridor Felix padded down eventually opened up into a hallway, the same grey stone all around him. In the centre of the room, a wide staircase led down into a beautiful foyer, where he saw suits of armour lining each wall, holding spears and lances and halberds - all sorts of weapons. The flooring downstairs was covered in a large rug the startling colour of cobalt, and fanciful iron sconces were lit upon the pillars that towered up to the ceiling, emitting a warming glow reminiscent of the sunset from his dream.

Felix descended the stairs, hearing even the soft scuffing of his slippers make echoes bounce around the chamber. Once upon the rug at the bottom, his ears pricked as he heard hushed voices from somewhere to his right.

While dead ahead of him sat a magnificent pair of huge oaken doors, a couple of smaller doors and corridors sat upon the walls to his left and right. He made sure to take quiet, careful steps towards the source of the whispers.

"The history is important. If he asks, I have no choice but to tell him," he heard from a behind a slightly-open door.

"But that's how our downfall came about in the first place!" Flayn sounded worried.

"Do you not trust him?" asked Seteth.

"Well… you saw his reaction to finding out…"

"He is a man of reason. He might be bull-headed, but he has honour."

_Damn right._ Felix almost smiled at Seteth's words.

"Wait," Flayn became somehow more hushed. "Do you feel like we're being…?"

At the sound of footsteps within the room, Felix became aware that he'd been discovered. So as not to seem suspicious - as though he had absolutely not been listening to their very private conversation - Felix rapped his knuckles upon the door a couple of times.

Seteth opened it at once. "Felix," he said with almost no intonation. "It is good to see you're awake."

_C'mon, Felix. You remember your manners, right?_ It had been so long since he'd felt obliged to use them. "Uh, yes… thanks." _That's the best you can do?_

"Please, come in. You seem better rested than when last we saw you." The man stepped aside and allowed Felix to pass over the threshold.

It was the most breathtaking room he'd ever seen. Evidently some kind of lounge or sitting room, the deep blue rug swept through the entirety of the room in a plush carpet. A couple of splendid sofas sat within, and some armchairs too, with the same intricate patterning threaded across them. A fire roared in the centre of one wall, with a beautiful marble mantelpiece crowning it; atop it sat a small clock, a trinket box, and a couple of ornaments. Above it, however, a huge portrait hung, seeming to watch over the room. A woman - objectively beautiful - with fine, delicate features; her hair was slightly darker than Seteth's own, with an almost turquoise hint within the tight ringlets. Despite her soft face, however, her eyes were hard.

Felix had never been a reader, but the magnificent bookshelf that lined one entire wall of the room drew him in. Books of all different sizes and colours were squashed into the shelves, each one looking loved, with worn-down spines from ages of use. The titles didn't interest him, all being either informative or fictional, but he scoured them nonetheless.

"Oh, do you read?" Flayn sounded happy from behind him.

"No," Felix answered, his eyes landing upon the golden lettering of one light green spine: _The Chivalry upon Rhondos Coast._ "My friend would love your collection, though." He could almost hear Ashe cooing in his ear over it now.

"Yes, I suppose you're wondering about your friends?" came Seteth's voice.

Felix whirled around at once. "You know where they are?"

"Of course," said Seteth. "They each made it back to the monastery safely."

Relief flooded through Felix's veins so rapidly he felt light-headed. "Safely?" he merely asked.

The man nodded, approaching him. Now, Felix noted, he was wearing more suitable clothing: a dark green velvet doublet that had been fastened up fully. Evidently, he'd changed out of his pyjamas. "There were some injuries, but I'm told everyone is recovering well. We retreated after you fell."

_After I fell…_ Felix crossed the room to stop in front of the fire. He did not feel physically cold, but standing before the flames - feeling heat wash over his body - soothed the unease that had risen inside him. "Tell me what happened," he demanded of the two of them. "When I… fell."

Flayn shot Seteth a look of apprehension as the two came to join him where he stood. "Well…" she began. "We don't know exactly what happened. All we know is that we heard the screams from your friend, Sylvain. He was crying out, begging for help, and I saw him holding your lifeless body. A corpse lay before you both - an enemy with an axe - so I assumed he'd killed your attacker, but… he'd been too late."

Seteth continued. "It looked as though you'd already gone by the time I joined, watching Flayn try to recover you."

"The way that… Seteth looked at me…" said Flayn with a cursory glance at her brother. "We both knew there was only one option for your survival. So, I created a flash - a light that would blind anyone from seeing what he was doing as he… uhm, as he…"

"… As I turned you." Seteth's words sent a chill through Felix's body that even the flames behind him could not quell. The man's face turned dark. "If I'm honest, something came over me. I've seen countless soldiers die - hundreds. Some of them allies, some of them friends, but… The horror upon the Margrave's son's face as he watched you bleed - so much blood, all thick and black and…" He swallowed. "Something within me told me I could not let you die. Something almost primal. I do not even remember it happening, but the next thing I knew, I'd pulled your body up onto my wyvern and we were fleeing."

"After that, I made sure that nobody else would get hurt as you did," Flayn reassured him. "I ensured our reinforcements retreated without further loss."

"Thank you, Flayn." Felix's words were quiet, the new information filling his brain and casting his eyes to the floor. His friends were safe - Sylvain was safe. They were back at the monastery, but… "Where am I, now?"

Seteth looked around the room. "This is our home. Our home away from the monastery."

"It seems old," said Felix. "As old as Garreg Mach."

"It may even be older." Seteth shrugged. "Alas. I did not want to take you back to the monastery after what I'd done. It is best that you recover here, where we can keep an eye on you."

Felix brought his palm up, dragging it across his tired, confused face. He didn't believe he needed much more recovery, considering he felt fit enough to return to Garreg Mach now, and thus assumed the man meant something deeper. "You say I need recovery?"

"Well, you're hardly fit to face the world in your condition."

"In my _condition?_" He raised an eyebrow. "Are your referring to my injury? Or to my new vampirism?"

Seteth's brow furrowed, but he did not bury his response in falsehoods. "The latter."

Felix felt himself draw in a breath. "What more is there to get used to? I'm paler now, and I burn under the sun. I can get used to that - I _am_ from Faerghus."

"There is the pressing matter of food, might I remind you?"

Seteth's response did not only set Felix's heart to pounding, but made Flayn give a little gasp. "Brother!" she yelped.

Seteth turned his head away. "It is the truth."

Of course. Felix could not simply ignore what was happening to him. While he felt relatively normal - if not a little battered and bruised - he had still undergone drastic changes. "I suppose I'll need to get used to these new benefits Flayn told me about?"

"I suppose you will." Seteth spoke kindly, but sternly: the way he always seemed to around Felix. The boy was glad, in a way, that that hadn't changed. "If you'd care to sit with us, I can prepare us tea, and we can discuss further."

But Felix wanted more answers. He wanted to know everything. A memory came back to him, of what the siblings had been talking about behind the door in private. _"The history is important."_

_No_, he thought. _Let's start from the top._

"Seteth," Felix called out to the man who had turned to leave the room. Forgetting that he'd been eavesdropping, he spoke his mind. "I want to know more. What history were you talking about?"

A small smile tugged at Flayn's lips, which she tried to hide from the wrathful eyes of her brother.

"So, you _were_ listening?" he asked with dismay.

"I deserve to know," Felix told him. "If I'm one of you now, I don't need your secrets and lies. You said that if I asked, you would tell me."

Seteth shook his head. "I shall have to watch what I say from now on, with you around…" He turned and gestured to a sofa. "Take a seat. It is time you knew."


	4. Chapter 4

The sounds of the crackling fireplace filled the room. They drowned out the silence, replacing the blood rushing through Felix's ears with sharp snaps and soft burning. Its smell was comforting too, reminding Felix of his days before the academy when he'd curl up with Glenn before the Fraldarius' fireplace and listen excitedly to his brother's fighting strategies.

As Seteth returned with a tray full of tea, placing it down upon the low wooden table that sat before Felix's sofa, he was reminded of Glenn's very first lesson.

_"Surprise! It's called an ambush. You lie in wait where your enemy can't see you coming, and then you strike! And catch them off-guard!"_

Seteth had certainly caught Felix off-guard. The woman who'd plunged an axe into his ribs had caught him off-guard, too. Felix felt as blundering and oblivious as ever as he sat back into the squashy sofa, watching a vampire prepare tea for him. He'd fallen in battle, and he would have died if he hadn't had his blood drawn to transmute him into a creature long-extinct. His eyes narrowed as Seteth poured the golden liquid through a strainer, filling up a cup. "How does it work?" he blurted.

"You will have to be more specific," Seteth answered, somewhat derisively.

"The turning. How does someone become one of you just from a bite?"

Seteth returned the teapot to the tray with a little hum of annoyance. It was at that moment that Flayn entered the room, her own tray in hand, singing quietly under her breath. "Flayn. Would you care to tell our guest how a mortal becomes a vampire?" he asked.

"Hm?" Flayn looked somewhat accused. "Why, it's not very nice! Must I?"

Seteth began to fill another teacup. "Felix would like to know."

Flayn set down the platter of cakes and biscuits upon the stout table. "Well… It begins with the bite."

"I would never have guessed." Felix folded his arms.

"When a vampire bites, they can choose to administer a venom. Not much research has been done on what the venom contains, but somehow it changes a human. I suppose it's sort of like injecting a disease into the bloodstream, but… instead of having adverse effects, it makes you become one of us." When the girl finished, she placed an iced cherry bun onto a small saucer, and took a seat upon the sofa opposite Felix. "Well, I suppose some _do_ consider this an adverse effect…"

He continued to look at her. "… Is that it?"

"Is that… what?" She took a small bite of her treat.

"That's how you turn a human? You inject them with venom?"

"Yes," said Seteth, handing Flayn her teacup. "It is entirely optional, once you are trained enough to control it. Why else do you think there have been no more vampires since the cull?"

"Because I thought they were all dead?" Felix replied, irritably.

Seteth cocked his head. "Touché."

"So, why did you turn me if I was already dead? Does being a vampire suddenly revive you?"

"No, but they are much more stable." The man reached over to the tray that Flayn had brought in, with a few saucers and a plate piled high with sweet treats. Felix saw small tarts, cakes, buns, and scones. They all made his lip curl. Seteth selected a tart filled with fruit preserves, and continued. "A vampire can live without a heartbeat for far longer than a human can, and is not nearly so affected by blood loss. The act of turning you allowed you to survive until Flayn could properly heal you. So, let's start from the beginning now, shall we?" Seteth sat next to Flayn, the two siblings opposite the newest vampire. "You said you wanted the history?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Flayn asked her brother, sounding wary. "I know you usually do not like to disclose-"

"I do not, you are correct. I believe this is an exception, however."

Seteth looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, beginning to recount all he could remember.

* * *

When the Goddess descended upon Fódlan, her blood was used to create a race of beings different from humans. While these children were known to Fódlan as the Four Saints - so-named for their incredible feats - they were in fact also the first four vampires in existence, born that way. They were the only four vampires who had never been turned, but possessed a special venom that they could secrete to turn others into one of them.

The four possessed a power so great, so destructive - with inhuman strength, vitality, reflexes... In exchange, the beings were only capable of displaying these abilities at night, when their sensitivity to the sun would not weaken them. With a slow heart, regenerative abilities, and a higher constitution, these beings had a vastly lengthened lifespan.

These abilities were not to be taken lightly, however. In the wrong hands, a vampire could wreak havoc, cause destruction, and could easily cause damage to the human world. The Four Saints tried to resist creating more of their kind as much as was possible - the world did not need a race war, when their kind would so easily be a target for the hatred of humans - but the War of Heroes caused a problem.

The Four Saints had never encountered so much bloodshed. Their main food source - their sustenance - so plentiful: drenching the battlefield. They knew they should hold back - should not create any more, but the Saints could not outlast their temptations. And, unable to control their venom, the corpses began to turn when the Saints sank their teeth in.

Thus, the race war began. Sated only by bloodlust, vampires began to feed on humans - no longer satisfied by the taste of animal blood - and would turn their victims by accident, as amateurs of keeping their venom at bay. They were nearly impossible to stop; they would target humans in their homes, killing them and feeding on them, but their longevity made killing them difficult.

However, after years of vampires reigning, the humans finally found their weakness. Something within the properties of silver could render a vampire useless. Powerless, pained, and paralysed, they could do naught to defend themselves if they came into contact with it. When at last humans caught onto this, they did not hesitate to take action.

Some baited them: would purposely leave trails of blood to their homes and then strike when their target was lured. Others took a more direct approach. Entire armies were sent out to scour the land for the dens, murdering them while they slept as the vampires had done to them. It did not even take a year for all the majority of the species to be found, and subsequently killed. Stragglers would be drawn out into the open from starvation, where they would be taken out.

* * *

"And, after all of those decades of struggle and turmoil, it seems the Four Saints are the only ones who survived. The only ones whose sense of self-preservation prevailed. And, the only ones whose disguises were convincing enough." When Seteth finished speaking, he drained his cup of the last dregs of tea.

Felix sat reeling, his brain soaking up the information to leave it feeling heavy, like a water-logged sponge. "Wait." His brow furrowed. "You said we were the last remaining ones."

Seteth was tight-lipped.

"But, you just said that only the Four Saints remain."

Flayn sipped tea a little anxiously.

"You're not trying to tell me…?"

"So, you are smart as well as strong." Seteth's tone was slightly sarcastic.

"The Four Saints?" No. How could this be? "The Four Saints? From the War of Heroes? Over a thousand years old?"

"Yes." Flayn sounded like she'd just admitted something painful.

"You're… trying to tell me that you're two of them."

"Yes," said Seteth.

Felix sat back in silence, a savoury muffin perched untouched upon the saucer in his lap. This day could not become any stranger. He was utterly convinced that nothing could surprise him anymore.

He swallowed, finding his throat dry, and drank some of the tea to try to soothe it. After what felt like an hour, he finally spoke up. "So, uh... which of the Saints are you?"

Flayn chuckled while Seteth spoke softly. "Cichol. And Flayn, evidently, is Cethleann, being the only girl."

Felix shrugged. "I don't know their names anyway, I'm not sure why I asked." He was met with yet another giggle from Flayn and even a breath of a laugh from Seteth. "Where are the other two?"

"We... do not know." There was an edge of sorrow to Flayn's voice. "They hid during the purge. We received letters a few years after it ended from them both, but haven't heard from them since."

"We don't technically know whether they're alive or not," said Seteth. "But I have little doubt that they are. They know what they are doing."

Felix nodded, trying to comprehend everything. "That's... good." After yet more quiet, he decided to try eating the savoury muffin. Felix had never believed in snacking for pleasure - food was sustenance, not a toy - but he bit into it either way. He was not fond. "Did you make this?" he asked Flayn.

She chirped a giggle. "No! I, uh… I prefer not to cook. My father is the chef."

Felix felt his mind jolt at that word. "Father?"

"Yes…?" She narrowed her eyes.

"You are not religious, are you, Felix?" Seteth almost sighed. "I suppose you did not know that Saint Cichol is Saint Cethleann's father."

"I didn't." Felix felt irritation rise within him. First, the two were siblings, and now, Flayn was Seteth's daughter? He merely shook his head. His earlier assumption was correct: this new information failed to surprise him. Now, it merely irritated him. Years of lies and deceit.

Ah, well. It couldn't be changed, so what was the point of dwelling on it? What mattered now was moving forward.

"You say vampires have heightened strength and such?" asked Felix. "Show me."


	5. Chapter 5

After being led through the building and out of a back exit, Felix found himself bathed in moonlight. A small, empty paddock sat behind the castle next to a large wooden stable, with packed earth as its ground replacing the healthy grass that grew all around it.

_The castle._ That was the only appropriate name for their home, now that Felix could turn around and admire the building in full. It was made entirely from stone, with imposing towers reaching up towards the inky sky. It reminded Felix of Garreg Mach not only from its interior - all brickwork and fanciful decorations - but from its exterior too.

"We usually train Zan out here," Flayn said from behind Felix, joining the men with a happy smile. "But we've not needed to for a while."

"_Zan?_" Felix spat. "Am I meant to know what that is?"

Seteth's face became flustered. "My wyvern," he said, brusquely. "It is short for Zanado."

Felix could not resist smiling. "You named your wyvern after the canyon?"

"I'll have you know we aren't far from the Red Canyon. We built this home after the war, as a way to stay close to where we hailed from. It serves as a second home from us away from the monastery."

"So, you named your wyvern after your hometown?" Felix still wore a smirk.

Seteth grit his teeth. He threw a sheathed sword at Felix from where they stood, causing the man to almost fumble and drop it in his attempt at catching. "I did. Do you have any qualms with that?"

Felix shrugged, weighing up the sword in his grip. "No. Is this the only sword you have?"

"I apologise that I couldn't save yours from the battlefield. Your life took precedence."

"So, this is the only weapon you have for me, is what I'm hearing." Felix pulled it from its scabbard, looking at the dull steel glinting in the moonlight. "Tell me you at least have a whetstone."

"Fool," Seteth muttered. "We shan't be sparring with real weapons. What do you take me for?"

"A coward, apparently."

"You are so abrasive," Seteth seethed. "Remind me why I saved you?"

"I have no idea." Felix's lip curled. "I didn't ask for this - to be your _freak_."

"You're more than welcome to try fending for yourself."

Felix felt his eyebrow twitch. He did not like the direction this conversation had taken. He appreciated being saved, but why did his rescuer have to be _Seteth_ \- somebody he clashed with so fiercely?

At his lack of response, Seteth turned his back and headed towards the stables. "No - we will spar with wooden weapons. I have a sword in the stables for you."

_Hmph_. "This sword you've given me is so blunt it may as well be a wooden one."

"Shall I bring the tea out?" Flayn's light voice called out to the two men, seeming desperate to bring a lighter tone to the conversation.

"Yes, please!" Seteth shouted from the stables, at the same time Felix responded: "no."

She dashed inside either way, and Felix's new sparring partner returned to him with a battered-looking wooden sword. Placing his steel sword at the side of the paddock, Felix tested a few cuts at the air with the wood, the weapon feeling clumsy and cumbersome in his grip. "This will not be my best fight."

"It will be good enough." Seteth stood opposite him with a wooden lance. "The aim is to get you used to your new skills."

"I look forward to it."

"Now, you will find that you will feel stronger. Striking and dodging may feel easier, as your muscles are more powerful now. We have more endurance, quicker reflexes, and… superlative strength."

"This could have been useful a long time ago," Felix remarked as he squared up to his opponent. "Don't go easy on me."

"I'm not going to give you my all-"

"Give me your all."

Seteth sighed at Felix's insistence, and readied his position. "You're prepared?"

"I am." Felix steeled himself.

"Come at me."

The two began to fight; Felix charged forwards, using his agility to his advantage as was his specialty. Seteth truly did not go easy on him, matching his every blow and hitting some back. Somehow, moving felt easier - springing backwards did not require nearly as much effort, and Felix scarcely needed to catch his breath, feeling his lungs working powerfully and his heart beating steadily. Despite that, though, he could not equal Seteth's speed; the man landed hits on his legs, the lance leaving nasty stings even despite its blunt blade.

The older man did not so much as break a sweat throughout their fight. Despite his clothes hardly looking fit for movement, he too was as quick as a cat, and could manoeuvre a lance as though it were second nature. Felix felt himself growing frustrated. Seteth had been on this planet for centuries longer than Felix had, and knew techniques so complex and elaborate it looked as though they'd taken years to master.

"Why couldn't you have been my training partner back at the monastery?" Felix growled through his teeth. "Do you know how useful that would have been?" He rushed to parry a blow. "Instead you sat behind a _desk_, writing _books_, and were of no help to anybody!"

"_Insolence!_" Seteth plunged his lance forwards, scarcely nicking Felix as the boy dodged at the last second. "You have no idea of the responsibilities that were on my shoulders-!"

"No, but you never failed to remind me of _mine!_" Felix slashed, but was blocked. "Telling me what I must and mustn't _do!_" He slashed again. "Telling me what you wanted of me! How I should treat people!" He slashed twice more, feeling himself become sloppy in his fury. "And now, you do _this_ to me!?" He drew back his elbow, and made to stab straight into Seteth's uncovered stomach-

"_Enough!_" An eerie glow surrounded Seteth, and in the blink of an eye, a white light appeared in the shape of a crest before him. The wooden lance cut through the air towards Felix, and the boy realised with panic that he was paralysed - unable to raise his arms in defence. The wood crashed down into his shoulder, splintering and sending him to his knees, crying out in pain as shards of wood bit down into his wound.

Felix's sword flew from his hand as he hit the floor, head reeling from the pain. He heard a clattering as Seteth dropped his own weapon, and watched as the packed earth between his fingers absorbed the blood that dripped from his shoulder.

Fear prickled his skin as he realised the scene was making him salivate.

"Felix," Seteth's voice was panicked as he approached, and he placed one gentle hand upon Felix's upper arm. "I'm so sor-"

"Unhand me!" Felix threw Seteth's hand away from him, pain shooting through his wound.

"I did not mean for-"

"I don't care!" Felix stood clumsily, and turned to Seteth. The man looked genuinely apologetic; his sister - no, daughter - bore the same expression as she rushed to his side. Felix shook his head at them both; not only were they deceptive - liars and freaks - but now they'd harmed him? Words echoed throughout his mind, from his bitter conversation earlier - Seteth's seething voice hissing through his ears:

_"You're more than welcome to try fending for yourself."_

Felix looked Seteth dead in the eyes, watching them glint like emeralds beneath the moonlight. "Forget it," he spat at the man. "I'm out of here."

He turned, feeling a breeze begin to rustle in his loose hair, and walked. Collecting the steel sword he'd been gifted from the edge of the paddock, Felix headed in the direction of the fields that lay beyond the castle grounds.

"Felix," Seteth's voice behind him sounded resigned. "Don't be foolish."

"I'm not being foolish!" he called, hearing his voice catch in the wind. "What would be foolish would be staying here with you!"

He took off running as a feeling of irritation spiked in his chest: he could not handle a single moment more of this craziness - of these two abominations who'd ruined his life and expected thanks in return. Yes, Felix was now more powerful, but watching Seteth's intricate movements had reminded him of a fact so frightening it had stricken a dull ache into his chest.

He could live forever. He would be here for centuries to come. And all of his friends - the people he loved back at Garreg Mach - would wither and die before him.

The hard earth of the paddock turned to soft, dewy grass beneath his feet. In just a few steps, damp soaked through the soft fabric of his slippers, chilling him at once. As wind whistled past him, it seemed to bite at his skin, the cold nipping at him until it made every hair stand on end. Felix cared not. Zanado was not far from Garreg Mach; he would travel there all alone if he had to.


	6. Chapter 6

After hours of travelling, heading down into a valley so steep that his temporary home now lay well out of sight, Felix realised something.

He had no idea where he was going.

He knew that the Red Canyon - which the castle was supposedly not far from - lay close to Garreg Mach, but he didn't know in which direction.

The more he traipsed, slippers making sad, squashy noises against the wet grass, the more he realised that the castle lay in the middle of nowhere. Mountains lay to either side of him, but thankfully, these hills he traversed were still grassy; Felix did not think he would stand a chance if he had to scale rock, and was thus thankful for soft ground, but the way water clung to the blades of grass beneath him meant his feet were soaked and chilled down to the bone.

He shook his head either way, and grit his teeth.

He was glad that the castle was situated in the middle of nowhere; it meant that he would find no passersby - would not have to cross through annoying towns and villages on his way. On the other hand, though, he would appreciate knowing where he was going - would appreciate being able to ask for directions. Or to ask for a place to rest. With a sinking feeling, he realised he would have to admit something to himself. Something he would much rather not voice.

Maybe he shouldn't have left.

While at the time it had seemed there was no choice other than to escape - to get far away from the freakshow - now that Felix had crossed seemingly miles of barren hills and lifeless fields, he began to feel…

Hopeless.

_A vampire._ The words finally began to sink in. The loneliness that pressed in around him through the cold, harsh winds of the night mirrored exactly how Felix had started to feel. He was lost, both in location and in life. He had been converted to a creature that had been culled, and pushed to the ends of the earth in genocide. If anybody were to know - to find out - he would surely be killed too.

And yet, he was still trying to find civilisation. Felix was still scouring the boundless hills for a sign of Garreg Mach, so that he could return to the only people he loved.  
The thought became even more set in his mind. He should not have left.

But, he could not go back. Could not show his face to Seteth again, after making such a scene. Even though his stomach had started to growl in its hunger, and even though his wounds were screaming out in agony from the way he'd exerted himself in training, Felix could not bring himself to turn back. He had a weapon, and he could easily slay a passing animal for meat, but no animals were to be seen. What was more, Felix had no way of eating the meat - no firewood or flint.

And he had no water, either.

Legs starting to shake with strain, and head beginning to cloud from dehydration, Felix stopped in his tracks. Would he die out here?

Yet, just as he was thinking - just as he was watching the horizon with a feeling of fright curdling within him - Felix felt his eyes begin to burn.

At first, it felt like tears were beginning to prickle them, but then that same sensation hit the back of his neck. Tiny stings hit his hands, and the backs of his ears, and Felix felt his burning eyes begin to widen as he noticed…

Colour was flooding back into the world.

From where the grass had previously been grey, and the night sky black, the heir of Fraldarius felt his heart begin to beat quicker as he watched green and blue return to his vision. The pinpricks of pain upon his skin became worse - irritating, like being bitten by ants - and in fear and confusion, he turned around.

Only to scream. Felix grabbed at his face as his eyes were assaulted by what felt like the most intense, bright light he'd ever witnessed. His retinas cried out in pain, pulsating as though they'd been branded, and Felix fell to his knees into the marshy grass beneath him. The cold mud that seeped through the material of his trousers felt so soothing - like a balm against his stinging skin - but it wasn't enough. The pain was growing by the second.

The sun was coming up. As his heart rate began to spike, and sweat began to bead upon his forehead as he writhed on the floor in pain, Felix's mind was overcome with only one thought.

He was going to die.

His knees buckled, and he felt himself fall on his side, the mire beneath engulfing him in its chilly, sticky mud. He curled into a ball, each muscle tightened in an attempt to fight off the pain, but it was too much.

_Too much._

He felt his consciousness wane, heard his own screams fade to mere agnonised wails as his muscles convulsed. He could not take this much longer.

But, something snapped him from his moribund daze. A sharp pain - different from the sun's burning - grabbed him. The sensation tightened around him, squeezing him, and then he was lifted. Felix felt wind in his hair, and his stomach churned at the unmistakable sensation that he was airborne.

Blinded, confused, and incapacitated by pain, his hands flailed out desperately at the bonds that ensnared him to try to pry himself from its grasp. He felt a roughness which sharply transitioned into a smooth, sleek hardness. It felt unmistakably like talons, given the way their tips bit into his skin, and rough, scaled toes wrapped around him. And Felix, through the ringing in his ears, could hear swoops. The sounds of wings beating powerfully against the air.

A creature, snatching him away as a bird would with a worm. Flying off with him as its prize, soaring through the skies, with him powerless in its talons, to do with him as it pleased.

It had come. It had not been the death he'd expected, but it was here. Through everything, Felix felt a pang of irritation; he had not been killed in battle, nor even from the woes of being a vampire - instead he would be killed by a creature that had captured him in his moment of weakness.

He felt almost resigned.

Felix never truly had been a daytime person. He'd always enjoyed the quiet of night - the peace that embraced the darkness.

But, the idea of a world where he could never face daylight again was… terrifying. A world where he could not even watch a sunrise without excruciating, blackout-inducing pain. He did not want that world. Perhaps, wherever his captor was taking him, he would endure a quick death, and he would not have to suffer in such a dark, meaningless world.

Sunrises, like the one that seared his skin now, reminded Felix of Sylvain. So many times back at the monastery would he head out at the crack of dawn to train, only to see Sylvain's walk of shame back to his dorm after a wild night.

Those times always made him laugh in secret. Outwardly, he would scowl, and berate Sylvain for his habits, but the queasy smiles the man would shoot back at him always made his stomach flip.

He wanted to see those smiles again. He wanted to watch the sun rise with Sylvain - perhaps up a hill or in a field somewhere. Somewhere they could be alone, swathed only in the sounds of nature, watching orange creep into the sky: the colour Felix always associated with Sylvain. The fierce, impassioned colour of his hair, which married the gold of his eyes to cast a glow of sunrise around the young cavalier.

Felix managed to pry open his eyes, his own scream meeting his ears as he did so. White flooded his vision, before it faded out to black as the pain threatened to send him to oblivion.

_No_. He fought it.

His eyes opened, streaming with tears, but Felix saw what he wanted.

Dawn had broken over the horizon. A fiery orange streaked the sky, setting the clouds ablaze and mottling the deep blue with its red and yellows and pinks. It contrasted so heavily against the sky, which was still cloaked in the cobalt of night.

And within it, Felix could see himself. The blue embracing the orange. The ocean opening its arms to the fire. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, and Sylvain Jose Gautier in his grasp.

That image was the last his mind could conjure before he felt himself slipping, his sunrise becoming black as the pain finally snatched consciousness from him.


End file.
